The sun hangs low, casting long golden shadows across the dusty road. Chinonye, with tired eyes from a long journey, walks with purpose.
“What is that smell?”
[Laughter] [Music] [Snorts]
“Mama! Is that you? Why do you look like this?”
“Oh, you are here.”
“What? What happened to my mother?”
“Your mother has not been well for a long time. We have been managing.”
“Managing? She is sitting in the dirt eating rubbish, and you call that managing?”
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